Set In Motion
by Sagebush
Summary: AU When Hunith moved to Ealdor, she was hoping for a better life than she'd had in but taxes are raised and life is suddenly just about surviving. Enter Balinor. What does he want and what are his dark secrets?  The events that sparked Destiny. ON HIATUS!
1. Life, Death, and Taxes

AN: Okay, this is my first fanfiction ever. I'm having a serious case of writers block on my novel at the moment, so I thought 'Hey, why don't I try fanfiction, where the whole world and characters are already planned for you?' and so this was born. I'm not sure how good this is... it's virtually un-edited, and I have a feeling that it's quite flat, if you get what I mean.

Oh well, enjoy - hopefully *fingers crossed* xD Please review and tell me what you think!

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Her hands scrambled in the pot, nails scratching marks into the wood. Her dark hair fell over her face as her frowning face flickered with emotions. Panic, desperation, fear, and finally despair.

Surely there was more! She had always been so careful. Waste not, want not was her motto – so why was the pot empty? She didn't just hope there was more, she _needed_ more. Because if this was it...

She shook her head and sat heavily on a chair. Her gaze drifted out of the window; Cenreds men were growing impatient. They wouldn't wait, and they wouldn't take no for answer. If they didn't get what they wanted, they'd take it by force. She sighed, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. It had already been a hard year, raised taxes certainly didn't bode well. All they could do was hope for a better harvest than was expected.

"Hunith," a soft voice called. She looked over, taking in the young figure of Halk. His light hair was cut short and uneven, his blue eyes crinkled with worry. One day, Hunith reflected, he would grow into a fine man. Maybe even a leader.

"I'm coming," she replied just as softly. She scooped up the coins on the table, and reluctantly placed three copper coins back in the pot. Standing up with a heavy heart, she walked over to the door where Halk was waiting. They smiled briefly at each other, before Hunith passed him and stepped outside.

The sun was bright; it had to be the brightest she'd seen it all year. As it warmed her face, she felt herself relax. Good weather was what they needed – what the crop needed. Not forgetting her task, she strode over to the soldiers with her head held high. There were six of them, all with the same look of scorn on their faces. One of them held their hand out expectantly. Before she could stop it, a look of disgust flashed across her face. She brought her hand up slowly and watched regretfully as the coins fell from her hand into his. The caught the light as they spun, glittering tauntingly. She paused for a moment, curtseying a tiny bit, then spun on her heel to walk away, but the soldiers other hand snaked out and held her wrist. Yanked to a stop, Hunith had no choice but to look up at him.

"Is this all of it?" he asked, breathing heavily. She only now noticed the livid scar that ran in a dead straight line across his neck and she faltered for a moment, breathing in deeply. His breath smelled of rotting fruit and dead animals. Hunith couldn't help but wrinkle her nose.

"Yes," she said.

The soldier glanced around him, at his comrades, as if for reassurance, then back at her. "I don't believe you,"

"It's all there, check it if you want," as soon as she said it, she realized the trap she had just walked into. Her heart beat wildly and fought to keep fear from breaking out onto her face. The soldier released her wrist as he shifted the coins in his hand.

"You know, I think I will," he sneered. He and his companions were all smirking. With an agonizing slowness, he started counting the coins, one by one. Taking the opportunity, Hunith sent a pleading glance to all the villagers watching. One by one, they'd all undergone the same treatment. All of them powerless to stop it. A cloud moved over the sun, abruptly darkening the mood. Hunith shivered in the sudden cold. Her eyes moved hesitantly to look at her tormentors face.

"Oh dear," he said. "Looks like we're a bit short,"

Hunith's eyes widened. "But it's there!" she cried. "It's all there!"

"Are you questioning me?" 'Scar-face' flexed his muscles, as if in preparation.

"N-no,"

"It sounded like it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" Hunith cowered away, expecting a strike. She wasn't disappointed. A hand hit her face so hard and fast, she fell to the floor. She started to rise again, but a foot on her back stopped her. Tears started to leak out of her eyes.

"Please, it's all I have. We need to survive, please," her cries were desperate, but they fell on deaf ears. The soldiers had surrounded her and for the first time, they looked alive. She knew what was coming, tried to curl into a ball. A hand grabbed her hair, pulling her head back.

"This is what happens when you try to cheat us," a new voice snarled in her ear. She whimpered, trying to squirm away. In the corner of her vision she saw a villager step forward, hands clenched. She sent a pleading glance in their direction; whatever they did, they would only make it worse. Briefly, she hoped the message had got across, before the first fist hit her.

The next few minutes faded into a blur of pain. It was relative, she realized. Pain was relative. When each blow came, she thought it couldn't get any worse, that she couldn't feel anymore. But it did. She bit back her screams as much as she could, but let her tears fall to the ground. There was no shame in crying. Time seemed to stop, seconds felt like eternity. The world around her disappeared. All that existed was her, and Pain. Pain, a tormentor like no other. The obliterator. Because when you felt pain like this, you could feel nothing else.

It took her a while to realize that the beating had stopped. She was in a state of semi-consciousness, only half aware of the things going on a round her. She wasn't sure if the pain was worse now or better, or if it was still the same. She could taste blood in her mouth, the familiar taste almost comforting. Somewhere, a voice in the back of her mind screamed at her. _It shouldn't be like this! It shouldn't _be_ familiar, it shouldn't_ be _comforting. _Vaguely, she could feel strong hands sliding underneath her, someone murmuring soothingly. She tried to smile, to say that she was okay, but now it was a fight to stay awake. Her eyes were closed and it would be oh so easy to just fall into that black pit on the edge of her mind. The black seemed so comforting, it seemed to offer an escape from this prison she was in. She knew there was something wrong with going into that pit, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what. She tried to fight it, but how could she fight when she didn't know _why_ she was fighting? The darkness was closer now, it was be so easy to just...

She fell, the dark taking her lovingly down.


	2. Awake and Alive

Sorry for the wait, I've been really busy. Something I just wanted to say: this fic is AU, but I don't know how AU. It is mainly AU because of the sequel I have planned. Also, this is mainly a prequel, something I wanted to write before I got to the second part of the story. So, yeah. Carry on. Read. Review. Pretty please?

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She woke. At first, she couldn't tell. She didn't know if she was dead or alive, awake or asleep. The world around her was a fuzzy white, but she didn't know if she was actually seeing it, or if it was just in her mind. She tried to look about her, but didn't know if she actually managed it. Because she couldn't feel herself.

It was eerie feeling of being suspended in the air, being weightless, with no body. Just... _her._ Her soul, her essence. A feeling of nothing. Time didn't seem to exist, seconds seem to last an eternity, but eternity seemed to last a second. She didn't know when her senses started coming back to her, only that she suddenly seemed to be able to hear things.

She could hear wind. It was howling what sounded like a gale, but she couldn't feel it. That meant she must be inside. There was also the soft crackling of a fire. A soft clacking of shoes on wood as someone walked across the room. At one point, a burst of coughing. Slowly, ever so slowly,she started to feel again. A warmth from the fire. The lumps digging into her back from a mattress. And the pain.

It wasn't as bad as she thought it should be; she had imagined being beaten would hurt more. The worst pains were coming from her ribs. Maybe she had broken one, she mused. Her lips felt swollen, and it was hard to breathe through her nose. She clenched her hand, just to make sure it was still there. Then she opened her eyes.

It wasn't too bright. It was the half-light you got from having a few candles and a fire going on a dark night. She was staring up at a ceiling. Wooden beams, crossing each other. A flat roof, this was one of the older houses in the village. She turned her head, to look around, and couldn't help but groan. It might be less pain than she thought it would be, but by the gods, that hurt.

There was a startled cry, then someone was walking over to her. From her new view, she could see a long, mud brown skirt, covering a pair of legs whose feet were wearing sensible, flat, leather shoes. A description of almost any peasant in the world.

"Hunith," a soft voice murmured. A voice she recognised... her tired brain stuggled to make connections. An image came into her head of a tall woman with short, black hair, covered in beads. "Hunith," the woman said again. This time, she managed to answer.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. She winced as the pain attacked once more.

"You're in my house, Hunith, it's me, Enda."

Enda. The name struck a chord in her mind and she remembered her. Enda; the healer, the dark skinned foreigner. She strained her eyes so that she could look at her face. Dark eyes the colour of chocolate looked down at her with concern. She smiled faintly.

"How long?" she asked, not having the energy to structure a full sentence.

"Two days. You had a small fever. You woke once, I doubt you'll remember, but I gave you something to help you sleep." Enda replied, understanding what she meant.

"The soldiers?"

There was a pause. Hunith closed her eyes in resignation.

"After they stopped the... beating, they searched your house. I don't know what they took, but it'll take a while to repair the place."

Along with the worry and despair, Hunith could feel guilt gripping her. Ealdor was a small village; everyone had to help with everything. They were all ready going to have a poor harvest, now the villagers would be divided between helping one of their own and having food to survive the next year.

"How's the harvest?"

"Hunith, you should be sleeping." Enda face gave it away.

"It's bad isn't it?"

"Not long after the soldiers left, Canaans men came. They want a quarter of the harvest."

Huniths eyes widened. "A quarter?" she whispered. "We can barely get by with what we have normally," the next question came reluctantly. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No." A single word that brought a ton of relief.

Enda suddenly turned on her heel and walked across the room. She started doing something with the potions set out on the table. Hunith lay in silence, thinking. After a few minutes, Enda came back over with a cup in her hand filled with a strange coloured liquid.

"Drink this," she said. "It'll relieve the pain."

"And no doubt send me to sleep," Hunith smiled. Enda gave her a sharp look, eyebrow raised. "Gaius," she explained. "More than once he tested his potions on me."

A knowing nod, then Hunith took the cup. She raised it to her lips, then stopped.

"Sometimes I wonder," she said. "is Canaan trying to survive, or kill us?" then she drank the mixture in one gulp. As her eyes closed, and her mind became heavy once more, she thought she heard a reply.

"I don't wonder. I know."

"How is she?"

Halk burst into the house barely having knocked before entering. He slightly out of breath and looked as if he'd run all the way there.

Enda looked up from where she was stirring a pot over the fire. Her eyes crinkled with amusement. "She's not died from an unknown injury in the night, if that's what you mean," she said. "She did, however, wake up in the night. She seemed fine, if in a little pain,"

Halk sighed in relief. "She's going to be fine?" he asked.

"Yes."

Enda took the pot of the fire and set it on the table, clearing some potions out of the way first. She looked over at Huniths still figure, then over at Halk. "Still here?" she asked with a knowing smile. "Shouldn't you be with the animals?"

Halk blushed slightly. "Yes, well," he muttered. But he stayed where he was, he's eyes resting on Hunith.

"It's not right!" he burst out suddenly. Enda nodded, knowing what he meant. "Hunith is the kindest person in this village, why was _she _the one who was beaten? She didn't deserve it,"

"Does anyone deserve it?" Enda asked softly.

Halk didn't reply to that.

"You care for her don't you,"

"Well, yes, as a friend. She reminds me of my mother."

Enda's face immediately sobered. Elizabeth had been a wonderful woman, until her heart failed her in the night. In some ways, she and Hunith were very similar. Yes, she could see why Halk was so worried. He didn't want to lose her too.

"She'll be fine. Now, you'd better do some work _before_ the sun sets." Halks cheeks were now bright red, and he awkwardly said goodbye, before shuffling out. The door closed softly behind him.

Enda smiled, wondering if Hunith knew how much she was loved by the villagers. She went back over to the table and served porridge into two bowls. Then she sat down in a chair and started eating,

her eyes not wavering for Huniths face. Halk was right, Hunith did not deserve this. Nobody did, but especially not _her_. Enda could swear that ever since Hunith had lived here, the Ealdor had been a better place.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that this year wasn't going to be an easy one. That it was going to be hard and long. She shook her head softly, dismissing her thoughts. Life would come and go as it pleased – there was nothing she could do to stop it.


	3. New Beginnings

**AN: First off, I'd like to say thanks to **jagtkd, lilyflower1345, **and** Pyros of the World Ignite,** for alerting this story. It really makes me happy! One thing that is concerning me though, is the lack of reviews. Is there something I'm doing wrong? Is the pace of the story to slow? Is the plot line just not interesting enough? Is it the lack of action so far? Please tell me if there's something I'm doing wrong! (Reviews will make me write faster! And get you chocolate, biscuits, a swimming pool and a millionares mansion - that good enough?) So, yeah. Oh and, I know the last two chapters have been quite short, so I've tried to make it longer. I wanted it to stop at a certain point, and I thought it would come sooner, but it didn't, so I'm quite pleased. Long_er_ chapter, without much effort :)  
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**Please read and enjoy. And please, please, please, review! Thank you!**

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The second time Hunith woke, someone was gently bathing her face. She shifted slightly and opened her eyes. She wasn't surprised to see Enda gazing down at her.

"How are you feeling?" the other woman asked.

"Like there's a griffon trying to claw it's way out of my head."

Enda laughed softly. "You shouldn't talk like that this close to the border." she reprimanded.

"I don't think even Uther can hear every mention of anything magical in his kingdom _and_ beyond." this time, they both laughed. Hunith watched as Enda dunked a cloth into a bucket of water that sat next to her, then started washing her face again. She hissed slightly as the water dripped into a cut on her cheek, then gritted her teeth.

"How bad is it?" she asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

"Oh, it's not that deep. It might not even have been the soldiers, it could have been some glass on the ground. It didn't even bleed that much,"

"I don't mean the cut," Hunith cut off. She used her hands to gesture to the rest of her body, then bit her tongue to stop from crying out.

"You have a broken rib, a couple of your fingers are broken. You're black and blue in most places, I'm not sure about your nose, and of course a split lip. You jarred your back quite badly when you fell, as well."

Hunith grimaced. Somehow it felt worse knowing the extent of her injuries. There was a sound of rushing water as Enda dipped the cloth in the bucket again. She jumped slightly as Enda started talking again.

"Halk came to see how you were this morning,"

Hunith felt a fond smile form on her lips. "He's a good lad," she said.

"Wouldn't leave until he knew that you were going to be fine. Did you know he thinks of you as a mother?"

"What?" Hunith's mouth almost dropped open. "No, that can't be true."

Enda almost laughed at the other womans expression. "You shouldn't be so surprised," she commented. "You're very like Elizabeth."

There was silence for a moment as Hunith digested this. "He's like a son to me too," she said finally. Enda smiled knowingly.

"How long till I can go home?" Hunith asked. It was worrying her. Her house needed fixing, she had no idea what could have been taken, and her help was needed in the fields – as was Edna's.

Enda sighed, looking her up and down. "You're ribs will need at least four weeks to heal. Your fingers will take about the same time, maybe a bit less. You won't be able to use your left hand for that time – I've splinted the fingers to minimise the damage."

Hunith couldn't stop the groan from escaping her lips. She could already tell that those four weeks would feel much longer. "Stupid bones," she moaned.

"Not that stupid. Without them you'd be a lump of skin on the floor with no defined shape," Enda replied absent mindedly.

A comfortable silence fell between the two women. Enda finished bathing the cuts, and move on to changing bandages. Hunith close her eyes and thought, trying to ignore the pain. The pain in her hand was less acute than it had been the night before, but the joints felt stiff and swollen. Deep breaths hurt her ribs, but it was easier to breath through her nose now. When Enda finished, she brought over a bowl of porridge and gave it to her with a soft, "Eat this."

As always, Hunith marvelled at how the healer managed to make a plain, fairly tasteless dish, taste wonderful. It was a mystery for another day, however, as her eyes began to close, and soon she was asleep.

The next four weeks were torture.

Hunith had to stay in bed for most of it, bored out of her mind. The splint on her hand came off halfway through the third week, and soon after she was allowed to walk again. At first she couldn't go far; weeks of doing nothing made walking suddenly wearisome. She got tired easily, but refused to give up. At the beginning of the fourth week, she was allowed to go back to her house. Enda hadn't been overstating when she said it would take a while to repair it – the damage would take weeks to sort out. She had had lots of visitors while she was bedridden, Halk being the most prominent. Several times they just sat and talked for several hours. To Hunith, it was the chance of normality and stopped her from going mad. To Halk, it was like having his mother back again. Other people came, such as Janet, Keith, Lina, and Elias, all people who led busy lives but somehow found time to see her. Each time Hunith expressed her surprise at the attention, Enda would say something about how she was a nice woman and anyone who didn't like her was an idiot. The description made her laugh more than once.

The soldiers had taken everything of value from her home, everything she prized in her meagre lifestyle. They had even taken the last of her money; she officially was out of it. Everyone in the village helped her out either by giving her a small amount of their own money, or donating some sort of household item, such as blankets or clothes. When the soldiers had searched her house, they hadn't taken any care. Glass bottles had been smashed, ink spilled, mattress ripped. Even the table was broken – Hunith had no idea how they'd done that, but she did wonder. Lots of people offered to help her repair her life, but in the end it was only Halk who helped. Hunith preferred it like that.

It was the second day of her being back. Hunith was cooking a stew for lunch, humming softly, and she could hear Halk out the back, mending the table. Although her hand was mostly mended, it was still quite sore, and she had specific orders from Enda not to over exert herself so as not to hurt her ribs anymore, even though they too were mostly mended. Halk had taken this seriously and wouldn't let her do anything vaguely strenuous, much to her annoyance. Stirring the pot once more, she walked across the room to her bed, her shoes clacking and her skirt swishing. Earlier, she had stuffed all the straw back into the mattress – goodness only knew how it managed to get everywhere – and now she just had to sew it back up. Quickly finding her needle and thread, she threaded the needle, and sat down on the bed frame as she started sewing. In, out, in out. Repetitive, mindless work. In, out, in, out. Outside, she could hear Halk attacking the poor table with a hammer. From the relentless sounds, it sounded as if he was enjoying himself. Hunith smiled to her herself. Suddenly, the was a startled yelp, and the hammering stopped. A string of curses quickly followed. Hunith leapt up as fast as she could, and almost ran over to the back door. "Halk-" she cried, then stopped. The table lay on it's side, one of it's legs sticking out at an awkward angle, and if a table could look sorry for itself, this one did. Halk was sucking his thumb with a pained expression, and he was glaring at something on the floor. Following his gaze, she saw what he was looking at. It was the hammer. Hunith couldn't help herself – she burst out laughing. Halk looked up, and the pained expression magnified. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth quickly, instead rubbing it against his trousers.

Composing herself hurriedly, Hunith tried to make her expression as innocent as possible before asking, "Lunch?"

That night, she felt exhausted. Her mattress was mended at last though, so she was hoping for a good night's sleep. She was making her last rounds of the house. Halk had left a couple of hours ago, after tea. The table was now as good as new as well. All in all, everything was going well. She was in her night clothes, and was just about to snuff the candle out, when someone knocked on the door.

The sound was quiet, but loud at the same time, and completely unexpected. She almost fell out of bed. It was dark outside, and well into the night. Who was it, and what did they want? Should she answer? It could be someone like Halk, or Enda. Or it could be some complete stranger, looking to rob her, or kidnap her. Picking up the candle, she cautiously got out of bed and walked over to the door. Whoever it was knocked again, more insistently. Questions ran through her mind. Her house was the furthest away from the main centre; she was the newest inhabitant and had had to build the house before she moved, with Gaius's help. That meant her's was the most likely place for bandits or anyone else to rob. Fear fluttered in her chest. But, she reasoned to herself, bandits or thieves wouldn't knock. So this person couldn't be a thief. Just to be sure, she picked a pan, took a deep breath, then opened the door.

What she saw was this; a man, on the young side of life, dark hair that could barely be discerned from the night. He had a stubble on his chin as though he hadn't shave for a few days, and his face, although it looked quite young, had lines of worry all over it. Even in the candle light, she could see the bags under his eyes.

"W-who are you?" she asked, trying to put as much determination as she could into her words. She raised the pan, so that the man could see it.

"Can I come in?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Who are you?" Hunith asked again.

"My name is Balinor. Please can I come in?"

She studied him. He didn't _look_ threatening, but that didn't mean anything. But he looked troubled, wearied, even _scared?_ She didn't know what to think. What sort of person asked to come into someone's house in the middle of the night? Whatever she thought though, there was a small voice at the back of her mind telling her to trust him. She hesitated a moment more, before stepping wordlessly aside. Balinor flashed her a smile before coming inside.

Shutting the door softly, Hunith turned around. She didn't relax her grip on the pan. Balinor was looking around him curiously, but looked at her straight away when she cleared her throat.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

He hesitated before answering. "For somewhere to stay," he answered. Hunith arched an eyebrow.

"Somewhere to stay?" she repeated slowly. Deciding to play along, she continued, "Why here?"

"Why not?"

There wasn't an answer to that. "What about where you live? Why are you here in the night?"

Balinor lifted his head, and there was a gleam in his eye and his face hardened. "I don't have a home anymore. I was forced out for who I was. I was told in no uncertain terms never to come back." there was raw pain in his voice, and Hunith almost stepped back.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked, even though she knew, for some unexplained reason, that she did already.

"That's for you to decide."

The two stared at each other, trying to work out what the other was thinking. Eventually, Hunith broke the silence. "You can stay for tonight."

Balinor's shoulders seemed to sag in relief and she put the pan down. Suddenly, she realized she was in her night clothes. The colour rose into her cheeks, and she coughed slightly. "You can have the bed," she said. Normally she wouldn't have minded that men always had the privileges, but she barely knew this stranger, yet she had to give everything up to him. She looked up in surprise when Balinor protested.

"No. I've been sleeping outside for the past few days, I think I can manage one more night on the floor."

Hunith gave him a grateful smile, and walked over to one of the cupboards and pulled out some spare blankets which she gave to him. She was walking back to her bed, candle still in hand, when she stopped and frowned. "Don't you have any belongings?" she asked.

Balinor was settling down under the blankets still in his clothes. Again, that dark look crossed his face. "No." Was the short reply.

Shrugging slightly, Hunith got into her bed. She paused slightly, the lent over and blew the candle out.


	4. Playing For Keeps

**AN: So, a second chapter in one day. I suppose I should mention this is because I've been in bed all day 'cause I'm ill. So, this is another short chapter, but it's where the chapter wanted to leave off - and who am I to deny the voices in my head? Don't tell me I'm mad, I know you have them too. Don't you? _A_nyway... oh yeah, I realised that the breaks between scenes wasn't working properly, but I think I've fixed that now. Again I ask you, is there something I'm doing wrong? Coz I know it's only been half a day since I posted the last chapter, but there's still no reviews :( So is it my writing? Is the pace of the story too slow? Are you just not interested that much in the story? Or can you just not be bothered to review (like me, usually?). Please tell me!  
Oh, and I'm giving the chapters names now. The first chapter being mainly about the taxes, I couldn't resist calling it that. Then, 'Awake and Alive' is a Skillet song. And there is a book, literally in front of me, called 'New Beginnins' and it seemed to fit. Playing For Keeps is also a book name. Anyway, I'm sure (hopefully) that you want to be reading the actually story now, so here you go.  
And once again, please review!**

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Balinor woke as the sun was rising. Already, outside he could hear people beginning to get up and start working. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, remembering the last time he woken up in a village like this. He shivered and rolled over.

The first thing he saw was the woman who this house belonged to asleep. He studied her, for the first time seeing her properly. She was probably quite pretty, but she was facing away from him. She had long, brown hair, and from what he saw of her last night, she looked to be in her early thirties. With a small murmur, she turned over, and for the first time, Balinor saw the injury's to her face. Most prominent were all the bruises that covered her cheeks. They were faded now, a sickly yellow colour, but still looked horrific. Her nose was also bruised and crooked, as if it had been broken. Her hand lay across her chest, but it was obvious that it was not quite right. The fingers looked slightly swollen and there were multiple cuts on the palm. Balinor felt anger that someone would do this, to a woman of all people.

Quietly, he got up and started folding the blankets up. Once he finished, he put them on the table – the slightly lop-sided table, he noticed with a wry smile. Wood creaked slightly as the woman turned over again and opened her eyes. She seemed to not see anything for a moment, the sat up with a start. Her eyes scanned the room anxiously, before resting on him. They looked at each other for a few moments in silence, before the woman looked down. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then spoke.

"Balinor." she said.

He nodded.

"Who are you?"

He raised his eyebrow, his mouth quirking into a smile. "Balinor," he said simply, with a small shrug.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Hunith got out of bed, very conscious of the fact she was still in her nightclothes. "No, I mean, really who are you? You come to my house in the middle of the night with no belongings, asking to stay the night, and saying that you've been forced out of your home. For all I know, you could be a," she shrugged, her hands gesturing wildly, "A sorcerer. Or a murderer. I mean, where are you even _from_?"

"Until two days ago, I lived in Camelot, in the court of King Uther. We didn't exactly trust each other, but we respected one another. I had a life, I was happy, before something happened. Uther's heart hardened and he condemned all of my kind. He became blind, would not listen to reason. I had to watch as he murdered good, innocent people, my friends. I was supposed to die that day, too. Only thanks to one man am I here now. I have travelled for two days with nothing, eating what I can find in the trees, drinking with my hands, sleeping on leaves. Only now have I stopped, now that I am out of Camelot, in the hope of a new life. So I ask you-"

"Hunith," she supplied.

"I ask of you, Hunith, will you allow me to live? Will you allow me to rebuild my life, and not cast me away and shun me like so many others have? I ask of you, Hunith."

Hunith looked at this man, this Balinor, with her breath taken away. She watched as the emotions played across his face; fondness, as he remembered past days; betrayal, pain, hurt; gratitude; weariness; and finally, hope, hope that she would allow him to stay. For a moment, she wanted to laugh. He was asking _her_ if he could stay? But then she remembered the seriousness of the situation, and considered everything that he had just said. His kind, condemned, by Uther? Good people, murdered? Two days of running to escape Camelot? For some reason, she didn't even need to consider it; she had already made up her mind. The only questions in her mind was; what was so terrible that Uther had condemned Balinor's 'kind', and who had helped him out? How terrible could it have been to know that a King who you had served for however many years, was hunting you, wanting to kill you, and to know that you, yourself, were running from your home, and your life?

"Of course you can stay," she said warmly. The look on Balinor's face was one she would never forget. She watched as his face slowly split into a huge, almost goofy-looking smile. For the first time, she noticed how his ears stuck out comically from the side of his head. She couldn't help but smile back.

Set In Motion :: Set In Motion

Later that morning found them both sitting at the table, eating porridge. Balinor hadn't spoken since his big speech, instead nodding or shaking his head to each question thrown at him, or just not doing anything at all. Hunith didn't like the silence, the way it hung in the air like a blanket, smothering everything.

"Is it all right?" she asked finally, gesturing at her bowl. Balinor only nodded, albeit with a smile, but she didn't let herself be put off. "Sorry if it's a bit plain, I'm not the best cook. If you want good cooking though, you should go to Enda – she makes the most wonderful food that you've ever tasted, it's amazing. I don't how she does it with the little food we have, the most exotic food this village has is sugar. She's a miracle worker," she knew she was babbling, but she _would_ make this man talk. And Halk would be arriving soon, so he needed to talk then. "Someone else who's wonderful is Halk. I don't know what I'd do without him; he's been helping me so much. He'll be coming back later, to help repair this place. It's falling apart with_out_ help. I suppose I could blame-"

"Who did that to you?"

Hunith stopped short, surprised. "Pardon?" she asked.

"Who did that to you?" Balinor had put his bowl down, and was staring at her. He gestured at her face, and she touched her cheek self-consciously.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, standing abruptly. Her hand snaked out and picked up Balinor's bowl, stacking it with her own and clearing them off the table.

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't be trying to hide it," Balinor pointed out.

With a heavy sigh, Hunith explained. "It's Cenred. He keeps raising taxes, it's beginning to get ridiculous. As if that isn't enough, he doesn't employ the most savory of people..." she broke off, remembering past years. In a whisper, "It could have been worse,"

She saw Balinor's face flush in anger, before the look changed into one of resignation. Putting the bowls down, she turned to face him.

"Are you a sorcerer?" she asked. The question had been running around her head all morning. It was only thing that seemed to fit with Balinor's story, the way he talked about 'his kind'. So she was surprised when he shook his head.

"No. Listen, Hunith, I'll tell you everything when I'm ready, but not now."

Feeling slightly frustrated, she nodded. Going over to the same cupboard that she had got the blankets from the night before, she drew out a shawl, and drew it round her shoulders – she had got dressed earlier, when Balinor had been relieving himself in the bushes behind the house. Gathering the bowls, spoons, and pan together, she coughed slightly. "I, uh, need to wash these,"

"Right." Balinor nodded. "Do you want some help?" he asked awkwardly.

"I think I can manage," Hunith said with an amused smile.

"Sure."

"You don't think I can manage?"

"No. I mean, yes. Of course I do. Everyone knows how to wash a few dishes,"

"Okay. Are you sure about that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you don't seem very sure."

Now Balinor was looking thoroughly confused. Hunith couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips, and she almost ran out of the house before he could get offended. Not only did it look comical, but that confused expression, combined with those ears – it was also quite adorable.

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**There isn't much progress in the plot in this chapter, but it was something I felt needed to go in. Mainly talking about the second part, the first part DEFINITELY needed to go in. Please, please, please, review and tell me what you think.**


	5. Trust Issues

**AN: Um, this is embarrasing. I was going to publish this last night... but I sort of fell asleep as I was doing it. Literally. So uh, yeah, sorry. Another short chapter :( I'm trying, but they keep wanting to end in a certain place. I'm still ill, but it seems to be getting better, so I'm working again, so I don't have all day to write. I couldn't write this weekend because I was at a first aid weekend, but I got two little badgers who thought I was amazing, so I was pleased xD Also, I got an A* on my first english assignment – woot woot! Anyway, please read and review (you know you want to!)**

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Hunith walked through the village with a spring in her stride, bowls and all. She felt happy today, and for the first time in weeks, her injury's weren't troubling her that much. Having someone to tease certainly helped as well. However, questions still ran round her mind. _What_ was Balinor, to have been shunned by society and by the king? What had been happening in Camelot these past few years that they didn't know about? Later, she would have to ask for news – if Balinor would answer.

Reaching the stream, she knelt down on the sharp pebbles, and started dunking the dishes in the water, using sand to clean them. She let herself relax into the repetitive motions, allowing herself to prepare for the day ahead, something she hadn't had a chance to do with her unexpected guest. Soon, she would have another guest as well, though this one expected.

After a few minutes of musing, she felt and heard someone kneel down next to her. Whoever it was leaned forwards and started washing their own dishes, their dark hair swinging forwards and covering their face. Hunith smiled as recognized all the beads that were entwined in braids.

"Enda," she greeted warmly.

"Hunith," was the reply. "Did you sleep well?"

"Of course. You're a genius with medicine's, and it's been better since I've been sleeping on my side. How was your night?"

Enda's voice was slightly wearied as she spoke, "Tiring. Elias fell down a steep bank rescuing one of the cows. He got it out, but he's concussed – it could get serious."

Hunith clapped a hand to her mouth. "Elias?" she whispered. "But we need him! The harvest..." she trailed off.

"I think we need to resign ourselves to the fact that we won't be having much of one this year,"

Wordlessly, Hunith started do pile her dishes together, her good mood already darkening. She was starting to wonder how many of the would survive the next year. She stood up, smoothing down her now wet skirt, said a quick goodbye to Enda, then walked back to her house. With Elias, Halk, and herself not working, everyone else would be overloaded with chores and jobs – maybe Balinor arriving wasn't so bad. He certainly _looked_ strong.

Any remnants of her good mood were quickly found, squashed and crushed, then chopped into little bits as she walked into her home and found Balinor pinned against the wall by Halk. Both had flushed faces and clenched fists.

"What's going on?" she asked sharply, her arms letting all the clean dishes fall to the floor. Both men stared at each other before looking at her. The began speaking at the same time, but Balinor nodded to let Halk speak.

"I came in to begin helping you, when I found _him_ going through your cupboards."

Huniths eyebrows shot up and she turned to Balinor. "You were going through my cupboards?" she asked incredulously. "I thought you were better than that!"

Balinor coughed slightly. "I wasn't going through your cupboard," he said. "I was trying to put the blankets away. I didn't know where they went." he gestured to the blankets he'd used as a bed which had been folded and placed neatly on the table.  
"Halk, let go of Balinor," he did so, looking very disgruntled, Balinor looking relieved. "Sit down. Both of you." they did, sitting in the only two chairs, Hunith standing over them with narrow eyes. "Now apologize."

Halk's mouth dropped open, and Balinor raised one eyebrow – obviously his way of being politely incredulous. "Hunith, he was going through your cupboards, what was I to think?"

"Did you actually ask him what he was doing? Be_fore_ you pinned him to the wall?"

"Yes."

Balinor's eyebrow climbed a little higher. "Really?"

"Well, maybe not. But-"

"No buts!" Hunith snapped. "Balinor is a guest in this house, and although I understand your concern, I want you _to apologize._" she stepped back a tiny bit, allowing them both more space.

The two men looked at each other. Halk was openly glaring, and Balinor's face was blank. He'd probably had a lot of time to practice, in Uther's court. When no apology's were forthcoming, she folded her arms. "I'm waiting,"

Balinor glanced at her again, then sat back in his chair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have waited till you got back to put the blankets away, and I should have explained what I was doing."

Halk's glare became a scowl. "I'm sorry for pinning you to the wall before asking for an explanation," he muttered.

Hunith smiled. "That's better," she said. Leaning forwards she picked the blankets up and walked over to the cupboard she kept her clothes in, she tapped it, but didn't open it. "This is where the blankets are usually kept," she said to Balinor. "But, for your sake, if you're going to be using them every night, they will go in this one." she moved over to another cupboard, this one smaller, and more run down. She turned to Halk.

"Are you going to stay?" she asked.

"Yes," he muttered sullenly. She smiled. Like a son indeed.

"Good. Balinor, can you fetch me some water please?" she picked up a bucket and thrust it at him, her eyes flicking for a moment to Halk. He seemed to get the message, nodding once and walking out. Once he was gone, she sat down in the seat he had occupied and looked at Halk, sighing. He looked up at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones.

"Who is he?" he asked finally.

"Balinor," she shrugged, with a small smile. Seeing Halk's look she continued, "I don't know. He came last night, knocking on my door. Said he needed to stay the night. He looked bad, like he'd been sleeping rough, you could see how tired he was-"

"And you let him in?"

"I have this feeling... he can be trusted. I don't know how, I just know. He's not betrayed that trust yet,"

"Yet."

Hunith looked at him sharply, but understood his distrust. She couldn't make someone else feel what she did, he would have to work it out for himself – because she was certain that Balinor could be trusted.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you,"

"I'm sorry for throwing your guest against a wall,"

With a smile, they forgave each other.

Hunith stood up. "We should be starting work, there's lot to do."

Set In Motion :: Set In Motion

"Why didn't you fight back?"

Balinor jumped as he heard Hunith's voice behind him. He turned away from the stream, holding the bucket up, and was greeted by the sight of her, face stern, arms crossed.

"When?"

"When Halk was fighting you." Hunith's voice was cold, but her eyes were warm. He took that as a good sign.

He shrugged. "If I had fought, would you still trust me? If I had fought, would I still be here?" when Hunith didn't reply, "I need yours and the villagers trust if I am to live here. Fighting would only bring mistrust and anger. I would hate to see that here,"

It was true. He had walked through the village on the way here, and had had to ask for directions to water. Although people had eyed him, evaluating him as a threat, they calmed when he told them he was staying with Hunith. He had seen the children playing, the way everyone pitched in to help. Such a small glimpse of this village's life, but it gave away so much. He watched as Hunith slowly smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

And his day seemed to get a whole lot better.


	6. Save You

**AN: I was going to post this last night, but all the words were blurring, and I could barely see the screen. I thought I'd best leave it till now so I could spell check. As always, this is basically un-edited, so I apologize for any mistakes.**

**Also, has anyone ever read the Hunger Games trilogy, or EON? Amazing books. I apologize that this chapter is a bit late (not that I actually have a posting schedule) but at first it didn't want to be written – plus I was at the stables, Guides, St. John... - but I prevailed. I hope it's okay.**

**Please read and review, cookies to everyone that does. (OH and a HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favourited this story!)**

**Also, can I just mention how much I _hate_ our internet connection? Oh, and the chapter name is from a song by Kelly Clarkson; one that seemed to fit this chapter quite well.**

A routine was established. In the mornings, Hunith would wake up and make breakfast for two, waking Balinor up as she did so. Then, he would go to the fields to work, or to the animals, or wherever the most help was needed, and she would wash the dishes. When she came back, Halk would have arrived and be ready for work. Although the two men had forgiven each other, they weren't exactly the best of friends. Balinor would come home briefly for lunch, and the three of them would eat together. After that, Balinor would leave again, and as less and less work needed to be done, so did Halk. In the evenings, just as it as getting dark, Balinor would come back, and they would eat again. They usually went to bed straight away.

It was on the fifth night she heard the screaming.

She woke at about midnight. An owl hooted softly in the distance, but apart from that, all was quiet. Sitting up slowly, she looked around, looking for anything out of place. Nothing. The windows were all either boarded up or closed, the door was barred, there was no-one creeping around, and Balinor was asleep- Balinor. He was writhing around on the floor, his face contorted into one of pain and horror. His hands were clenched tightly, gripping a blanket so tightly that his hands had gone a strange mix of pale white and bright red.

Hunith shot to her feet, eyes wide. She opened her mouth to speak, but Balinor beat her to it.

"No, no, stop, STOP!" the last part was shouted, his words were full of desperation. She felt her lips press into hard lines and moved to kneel on the floor. As she moved closer, he opened his mouth and screamed. An honest to god scream, the sound cutting through the air like a hot knife through butter. Hunith cried out with it, her hands flying to her ears to try and block out the terrible sound. Finally, Balinor stopped, and sat up abruptly, his eyes wide.

Set In Motion :: Set In Motion

He was gasping for air; that was the first thing he noticed. That, and the fact that Hunith was kneeling on the floor next to him, her hands pressed to her ears, her face in a picture of pain. Time seemed to freeze, the only sound being his ragged breathing. He was conscious of the sweat dripping off his nose.

His mind flashed back, remembering the scene he had been dreaming of. _Standing in the crowd, the hood of his cloak pulled up high to hid his face. Watching as friends were led out of the dungeons, into the courtyard. Faces dirtied, red, and raw. Pain in their eyes. Stumbling and tripping as they tried to walk, their chained ankles restricting their movements._

No! He needed to stop remembering, there was nothing he could have done. _But there was,_ a traitorous voice said in his mind. Vaguely, he saw Hunith start to lower her hands, her eyes wide. He felt his breathing start to slowly even out. The only thing he really saw though, was in his minds eye.

_The pyre in the middle of the courtyard, the wood dark against the stone floor._ _A smear of evil. Guards were herding the prisoners to it, their faces set into masks of stones. Prisoners. Outlaws, __criminals- but they weren't. They were friends, and had been trusted advisors to the king. A small laugh escaped his lips, and he was thankful no-one heard it. Advisors and trusted no more. He __watched as each men, even of women, were tied to the stake in the middle of the pyre. Each and every face had the same emotions displayed; betrayal, hurt, anger, resignation, and even terror. He felt the same emotions burn and had to swallow down the bile that was rising in his throat. _I should be with them,_ he thought, and suddenly he couldn't look. He turned away._

He realized he was cradling his head in his hands, that his face was wet. Wet? With a shock, he realized he was crying. He didn't try to stop the tears. Instead, he let them fall, like a badge for his shame.

"_These men and women have gone against the sacred laws of Camelot. Here, today, they will pay for that crime. Once, these people lived in my very halls, but never once did I imagine their true nature. Their nature that was revealed to me, not two days ago." Uther had stepped onto the battlements and addressed the crowd in the square. His expression was hard, his eyes were red. It was obvious he had been crying; he had a haunted look, the look of someone who had lost someone close._

_Balinor felt something twist in his gut. Sympathy, perhaps? More likely anger. Or rage, even. He didn't know. He was beyond caring. The crowd around him were all looking at their King, their faces carefully masked. So far, his rule had been mostly fair and just, though many attributed that to his Queen. Now, he was betraying their trust._

"_A lot has befallen the kingdom these last few days. One good thing though, is that my eyes have been opened. Camelot has been infested with evil, something I have somehow missed. Now I shall remedy my lapse in good judgement. Power corrupts. Magic corrupts. Which is why, as of now, anyone who uses magic shall be punished – with death."_

_Balinor felt his gaze turn unwillingly back to those on the pyre. All of them, men and women, had joined hands. Linked together in their final moments. He felt his eyes moisten, felt himself pick out every single face, remembering their names, what they had been like. Silence had fallen, and he sensed rather than saw, Uther's hand rise, then fall, giving the signal. Torches were set to the dry wood. Small flames leapt up without the slightest provocation._

He was rocking back and forth, his eyes closed, jaw clenched. The pain was there, always present, never going. He didn't think it would. Seeing anyone, even if you didn't know them burn- it wasn't something you could forget. Why now? Why did he dream of it tonight, when it had been a full week since the incident? When he had thought that maybe, just maybe, he could forget it all, and start a whole new life? Why?

Someone had put an arm around his shoulder, was muttering to him softly. Hunith.

_A baby had started crying, the sound a cue for everyone else to start voicing their own protests. Shouts, murmurs, screams. The flames were high now, the shrieks of pain from those in the middle of them unable to be ignored. Balinor was retching. The smell of burning flesh was strong and was foul. He could feel the heat of the bonfire from here, in the middle of the crowd. He gagged again, but nothing came up. There wasn't anything to empty out – he hadn't eaten in a while now._

_One voice was rising over the others now, carrying through the air. It took him a while to realize it was him. The keening sound rose and fell through the air in a haunting melody, everything else falling silent, apart from the screams of pain. Slowly, one by one, other voices joined his, until the whole crowd had joined voices. Like the people on the pyre, holding hands, in their own way, they had linked together. Looking up, he saw Uther's face close as he turned and walked away. _

Slowly, the tears were stopping, the rocking slowing. His hands were entwined in his hair, almost ripping it out. The pain felt good. The arm was still around his shoulders, the soft words still being murmured into his ear. He lent into the woman, craving comfort, and felt like a small boy again.

_In the end, all that was left was a pile of ashes. A big pile of ashes, but a pile none the less. No sign of what had happened apart from the scorched group. Even that would soon be gone. The smell of burning flesh still hung in the air though – that was something that would only go in time. Not something Uther could 'eradicate'. He had been standing there for hours now. Only a few others remained with him. He recognized them; friends and family of those who had died. He was tired, hungry, and thirsty, but still he did not move. Would not. Because he should be in that pile of ashes. He should have been with them, should not have betrayed them like this. Betrayed them by living._

_It took a while for him to notice the figure standing next to him. The man looked as if he had aged by at least twenty years over the last few days. His shoulders were stooped in an expression of weariness._

"_You should go." he said, a light breeze blowing his grey hair about his shoulders._

"_I should have been with them," Balinor replied. "I have betrayed them,"_

"_No." and the sharpness of his tone made him look up. "You would have betrayed them by staying and being with them. This way, you can continue, keep them alive in memory. Make them a legend. Give them the respect they deserve."_

"_How?" he asked hollowly. "Almost everyone who was friend to me has died today. Why do I deserve to live, not them?"_

_Silence. The other man had gone. He was alone. Alone._

_He turned and walked away from everything he had ever known. Away from _them._ And away from himself._

He had left himself behind; at least it had felt like it. He was pretty sure that he would never be the same again. Uther had hardened him, had changed him.

Slowly, he came back to his senses. He pulled away from Hunith, brushing the tears off his face. The questions were burning brightly in her eyes, but she held her tongue. He was grateful. He didn't want to, couldn't speak yet. Yet. He knew answers would be needed. He let his gaze wander to one of the windows, and stared out. He could just see the moon and a few stars, but apart from that it was pitch black. The moon and the stars; so high, so free, so above the goings on of everything down on the ground. He wondered how that would feel; to have nothing to worry about, to be free – truly free, something he had never felt. He delayed the moment for as long as possible; the moment where he would have to look back and face Hunith, when he would have to give the answers he should have given the night he arrived.

Eventually though, his eyes met hers and the inevitable was delayed no longer.

"I'm sorry,"

Two words that he wished he could take back, because, although he meant them, that wasn't the way he wanted to start.

"I should have told you when I came,"

Stop beating around the bush, tell her.

"I-I-"

He couldn't do it, didn't have the words to begin. Something was blocking his voice, a blockage in his throat. A blockage he knew that, in reality, didn't exist.

"Start from the beginning." Hunith's soft voice broke through to him. The beginning, yes, a good place to start. He took a breath, gave another false start, then finally began.

"I'm a Dragon Lord. I was born in Camelot, my father already lived there, in the court. I grew up surrounded by magic, lords and ladies. Uther didn't exactly welcome magic with open arms, but he accepted it, mainly thanks to his wife, Ygraine. Uther was set in his ways, and very stubborn, but the Queen was wonderful. She was everything you would dream of a queen and more. Something that was not common knowledge though, was that she couldn't produce a child. She tried and tried, but whatever help she sought, it did not work. Eventually, Uther snapped, and went to Nimueh. She had grown up half in the court, half in the realms of magic. She was a powerful sorcerer. Uther struck a deal – I don't know what it involved – and soon, the Queen was pregnant.

"Everything seemed perfect; now I see how naïve I was. Ygraine went into labour, Uther stayed by her side day and night. He loved her like nothing before. Child birth was difficult, but not unusually so. A boy was born, but his significance was lost when Ygraine suddenly got worse, much worse. She died within an hour. Her last words were to name the child Arthur.

"Uther was in denial. He was so angry... he quickly blamed Nimueh, and ordered her to be executed. She tried to placate him but to no avail. Finally, she used her magic to escape – there was nothing else she could have done. Later that day, Uther ordered his knights to hunt out every single magic user and imprison each one. They followed his orders blindly, they did not realize his anger. If they had, I doubt they would have followed his orders.

"He ordered them to be executed. To be burnt at the stake. I watched as one by one, my friends and allies were captured. Only thanks to the Court Physician did I escape. He warned me of Uther's plans, and hid me. I was the only one he had the time to save. I watched the execution the next day. I watched as friends, acquaintances, were led like animals to the pyre. I listened as Uther decreed that any magic was to be punished by death. I felt the pain of my kin. I watched till the very end. Till all that was left was a pile of ashes,"

Here for the first time, he faltered. "A pile of ashes, no way to distinguish whose was whose. No body's left to bury. No sign of the people who had once been apart from a pile of _ashes_. That day, I wanted to die. I felt as if I had betrayed them by not being with them. I should have been there to the very end, but instead I watched in the crowd like a coward. I might have given in then, but as I stood there, looking at what was left, Gaius made me go. Gave me a purpose. Because it was the least I could do,"

He stopped speaking,unable to continue for a moment. Hunith was staring at him, her face full of conflicting emotions. He could feel the familiar sensation of bile rising in his mouth, but squashed it back down.

"The last words he said to me were; make them a legend. Give them the respect they deserve."

He was crying again. Couldn't help himself. _Give them the respect they deserve. _Gaius' words echoed round his head. They already had the respect they deserved, nobody could take that away. _Make them a legend. _That was one thing he could do. The least he could do.

Hunith was murmuring in his ear again, like she would to a child. He leant into her embrace, welcoming it.

They stayed like that for most of the night. One fragile and broken, clinging to the only link to sanity he had, the other softly giving comfort, trying to mend what she could before the cover broke completely.


	7. A Day To Remember

**AN: Okay, so it's been a while since the last update, and I'm really, really, _really, _sorry! But I do have excuses. First, my inspiration went. Then the internet was practically unusable for days. Then my eye started swelling and got inflamed, so I went to the doctor, and they said I might have a sty coming up so I have to 'bathe the eye up to four times a day in boiled salt water which has cooled'.**

**I also had St. John cadet competitions today (came 2nd in first aid, and debatable second/first (they counted the marks up wrong, so they're having to work it again)) and I have the second modular of my maths GCSE on tuesday. So I have an excuse, so don't kill me! - if you weren't going to anyway, just ignore that pompous and big headed statement, because that would emply that you liked this story enough to read it, get annoyed when I didn't update it quickly, and try to track me down to kill me. *ahem***

**So, sorry it's late and also, I'm not entirely please with the last chapter. It's a bit dark, miserable, upsetting, and I think a bit out of character. Not sure, but I wanted to go for a happier, more upbeat chapter, and I think I managed okay.**

**Quick note: not sure if I already said this, but I post everything I write virtually unedited. The only editing I do is spellchecking. This obviously leads to some typo's etc, so I apologise in advance. Also anyone know the difference between the american and english versions of spelling words like 'realise/realize' and 'apologise/apologize'? Coz that would be helpful, and my computer is stupid with spell checking words like that so...**

**You probably want to actually read the story now, so go ahead. But if you're interested, I'm planning two sequels to this. One covers Merlin, when he's either ten or twelve, when _something_ happens (see, not giving anything away!) and the second covers when he's like, 17/18. If you're interested.**

**Please read and review – pretty please, I like to know what standard my writing is and what you think, wether good or bad so I can improve!**

**And now let the story commence (finally!) (oh the chapter name came from I think a book, or a song, but I'm not sure. It's self explanitory really.) (Just realised I'm on chapter 7 - wow!)**

Light was beginning to peak through the grey clouds when they broke apart. Already, it could be seen that it was going to be one of those days where the sun shone brightly, the clouds covered the sky, and the air was cold.

The sounds of other people getting up could already be heard. The laughing words from father to son, cows mooing, a goat braying loudly and obnoxiously. The birds were singing their songs to anyone who would listen. Just the same as any normal day.

Possibly.

Normally, she didn't spend half the night comforting someone.

Normally, she didn't harbour a fugitive. Even if that fugitive was only fugitive in the next country.

Normally, men didn't cry into her shoulder.

Normally, she didn't tuck a full grown man into bed, halfway through the rising hour, still in her nightclothes.

Perhaps _not_ the same as any normal day.

With a soft sigh, she rose from her knees, biting her tongue as her limbs protested from a night crouched on the floor. She lifted a weary hand to brush her hair back. Just another hour and a half till Halk came. An hour and a half to compose herself.

Not enough time.

Her legs were walking her over to her cupboard, her hands taking her clothes out. Her tired brain seemed to be telling her body what to do, without her actually thinking about it. She smiled wryly. This was a skill that could actually become quite useful. She walked over to her bed, careful to be quiet so as not to wake Balinor, and started making her bed.

It was amazing how long she could make a simple task last.

After, she made her way over to her kitchen area and started preparing breakfast. As she mixed the oats with water, she felt herself relax with the normality of it. She felt her mind begin to calm and was thankful for it. Her senses began to tune themselves with that around her. She could hear soft snoring from Balinor's direction, feel the draft from where a window wasn't boarded up properly. Another sigh escaped her lips as she sat down at the table. She needed to think. Really think.

Uther had a child. Ygraine was dead. Nimueh disappeared without a trace. Witches, sorcerers, _dragon lords, _ all executed. From Balinor's account, probably still being executed. It was a dire situation. And then there was Balinor himself. A young man who had no part of this, but had been made a part of it anyway. She couldn't imagine what it must have done to his mind- actually she did. She had been up all night. She couldn't guess, however, how much it must have hurt to see so many people die. Especially if they were friends. Especially at Uther's hand.

How did she feel about it, she asked herself. An unanswerable question.

All she knew was that she was more shocked at the news of Ygraine's death than of Uther's deeds. Uther had always had potential to be ruthless, but with his wife's steadying hand his rule had been a just and prosperous one. That time was obviously over. The situation was made worse by the fact Nimueh had fled – she was more than powerful enough to defeat Uther, and if she had left, the situation in Camelot had to be worse than she could ever imagine. Worse still, was the betrayal. Hunith wasn't blind, she knew that although Uther tolerated them, he didn't like sorcerers or magic users, but they had lived with him for years now. Surely even he couldn't burn alive people he knew, was perhaps even friends with, and had interacted with every day for more than the last few years just because his wife had died? The facts stated so.

More than ever, Hunith was grateful for the decision she made to leave Camelot, to come to Escetia, Cenreds kingdom. Although he was a hard king that ruled with an iron fist, he had never ordered a massacre of this scale to her knowledge.

She stood up and made her way over to the stove, taking the porridge of. It was well cooked now, nearing burnt, but she was thankful for it all the same. Staying up half the night had given her quite an appetite, but she made sure to save some for Balinor for when he woke. Stifling a yawn, she picked up her bowl and spoon to wash, opening her front door with one hand. The air was sharp outside, and she couldn't help a little shiver. Hurriedly she walked through the village. Other woman and children were on their way to wash their own dishes, and Hunith quickly fell in step with a small group, listening to their conversation. Surprise, surprise, their talk was about that of the failing harvest.

"I don't think it's just the weather," one woman said. Hunith recognized her as Elias' wife, Jade. "the weather has been as good as other years. We need more people! Our sons and daughters need to stop leaving us here. They grow up and move away, and come for the occasional visit, but slowly and surely this village is getting smaller and smaller."

Another woman snorted. "The weather as good as other years? We've had nothing but cold, rain, and snow. The most we've had is a week of sun, and you're saying it's not the weather? Of course the kids are leaving, they have their own lives to live, but we managed before they came, so we can manage now. No, there is nothing we as humans could have done to help this crop." she looked down at her swollen belly, rubbing it gently. "I would be happy for my kids to leave Ealdor as son as they are ready. Their lives need more than this quiet life,"

A smaller, slighter woman, Antoinette voiced her own opinion. "The weather hasn't helped, certainly, neither had the lack of young hands, but it feels more like the land is giving up on us. We farm it year after year, giving nothing to it apart from manure and seeds. Before you can take, you must give. It's the way of the world." she gave a small shrug to emphasise her point.

Hunith nodded, personally agreeing with the other womans opinion. Antoinette was also from a different country, although not as much as an exotic one as Enda. She came from overseas on a slave ship, but escaped and made her way deep into the land, resting in many place but finally stopping in Ealdor. She never talked about her old life.

By this time, the group had reached the stream, and there was a brief silence as they all knelt down to wash their dishes. Hunith smiled as Antoinette quietly offered to take Kat's, the pregnant womans, dishes. Kat, ever stubborn and wilful declined the offer, though with thanks.

Not having much to wash, Hunith was finished before anyone else. As she stood up and shook her skirt out, Jade called out to her.

"Hunith, are you alright? We heard noises last night and we thought..." the sentence was left hanging.

"I'm fine," Hunith reassured. "so is Balinor. He just had a nightmare, and he didn't sleep much. In fact, can you tell someone that he won't be working today? I don't think he'll even wake for a while yet."

"Must have been some nightmare," someone muttered darkly, but she didn't catch who the speaker was.

"Anyway," she said, ignoring the pointed comment. "how is Elias? I heard he injured."

Jade cast her eyes down. "Yes. I'm trying to keep him in bed for at least today, but he insists on getting up. There's not much I can do, especially when I know why he is so insistent."  
Huniths heart melted in pity. "Is there anything I can do?"

"It's a nice offer, but you need to rebuild your own life Hunith, especially with certain guests."

Hunith wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Jade's eyes twinkling. "If you're sure," she agreed reluctantly. "but my life is coming along just fine, especially with Balinor to help. He's a good _friend_," she stressed the last word to make sure Jade understood her meaning; their was nothing going on between the two of them

Jade's eyes were definitely twinkling now. "If you're sure," she said, copying Huniths own words.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Hunith made an excuse about not being late for Halk and walked away quickly. She was sure she heard giggling as soon as her back was turned, and she silently laughed back. Let the other woman believe what they wanted, she _knew_ there was nothing going on between her and Balinor.

Set In Motion :: Set In Motion

Someone knocked on the door almost the moment Hunith got back. She opened it to find Halk with a slightly worried look about him. She stepped aside to let him in, but put a finger to her lip to keep him quiet. Shutting the door behind him, she guided the young man to the back door, ushering him out. Halk's expression deepened into a frown, and his eyebrow crept slowly up. There was an almost uncanny resemblance to her brothers eyebrow. The edges of her mouths turned up.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked suspiciously.

"You." Hunith answered without missing a beat. She then waited until both of Halks eyebrows had shot up before continuing. "My brother and you have a lot of facial expressions in common,"

A moment later she noted that skin could go quite an amusing shade of red.

"And the reason we're in the back garden, in the cold, and not in the nice and warm house?"

"That's complicated."

"Anything to do with screaming last night?"

Although Halk's voice was bordering on sarcasm and insolence, Hunith knew it was out of concern. She wondered how much she should tell him, and bought extra time by brushing her hair back from her face, where it had been blown across her face by the wind.

"Balinor had a nightmare. Horrible doesn't cover it. He stayed up most of the night, and he's trying to sleep it out."

Halk nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

"Well," Hunith hesitated, sending a brief glance behind her back at the house. "News from Camelot." She looked back again, still trying to decide how much to give away. Would Balinor get angry if she told too much? "Ygraine is dead. She died in child birth, and Uther blamed Nimueh. She disappeared, so he looked for someone else to take his anger out on, and chose magic."

"Magic?"

"He sentenced every known magic user to death, and made a new law for anyone caught using magic to be killed."

Halks face drained of colour as he realized exactly what that meant. "My gods." he said.

"To put it mildly."

"He can't have done that. That's basically _genocide._"

"Yes."

"But- who would do that?"

"Uther."

"My gods."

Set In Motion :: Set In Motion

Balinor started screaming again at lunch time. Sending Halk a look which said 'Get out', Hunith went to wake him up. He did so just as the front door shut. Sitting up and almost banging her nose, he stared straight ahead with unseeing eyes. For a few tense moments, Hunith thought he was going to lose it again, but his eyes suddenly snapped into focus and his fists clenched into tight balls. He seemed to shake for a few moments, and she rocked back on her heels to give him so space, studying him at the same time.

His hair was sticking up all over the place, his forehead was shining with sweat. His face was pale, his eyes wide. Nostrils were flared as he suddenly lent forward and started knuckling his face. After a few moments, he sat up again and looked at Hunith.

"Sorry," he said.

She smiled. "For what?"

"This, last night."

"It wasn't your fault, and you couldn't help it. There is nothing to be sorry for,"

Balinor studied her; "Have you had any sleep since I woke you up?"

"Not quite..."

"Then I'm sorry." he smiled, a smile which said he'd won that round. He felt better for the few hours of sleep he got; he didn't feel so ready to fall apart at the slightest blow. He felt ready to face the world, even if he would have to do it with the memories of what had happened. But the past was the past, and there was nothing he could do to change it, so he might as well get on with life. He still hadn't fully come to terms with what had happened, but he knew he would.

And that felt good.

Returning the smile, Hunith stood up and offered a hand to Balinor. He took it, and she swung him up, laughing slightly as they both lost their balance and almost fell. Sobering slightly, she warned Balinor. "Halk's waiting outside. I told him to get out when you started screaming."

"You shouldn't have!"

"I didn't know what state you would be in when you woke up," she said pointedly. Balinor accepted this with a slight nod of his head. "I also told him the news from Camelot."

His face dropped. "You told him what?"

"I told him that Ygraine was dead, and that Uther had passed a new law to kill anyone using magic. Nothing else." Looking at his face, Hunith continued. "The villagers are anxious for news – we don't see many people from Camelot. They tend to go to the bigger towns rather than come to a small place like this. When someone _does_ come here, we like to hear the news. So far, you've been a closed book. It was easier like this."

Balinor nodded. "I guess," he said. Then he sniffed. "Is that lunch I smell?" he asked.

Hunith smiled. "It might be,"

He looked at her longingly. "Do you have any idea how hungry I am?"

"Possibly," frowning, she looked over at the table. "though, I wasn't expecting you to wake for some time – I only made enough for me and Halk."

Face falling, Balinor muttered a small 'oh'. "I guess I'll wait then."

Hunith walked over to the door, opened it and called for Halk to come back in, before sitting down at the table. Both the men sat down with her, but Halk started tucking again without a second thought, and Hunith followed suit. She was very aware of the way Balinor was staring at her bowl like a starved puppy. She fought to keep her facial expressions under control.

A few minutes of complete silence later, she finished. Looking into the cooking pot, she eyed up what was left. "Seconds?" she asked Halk innocently.

Balinor's eyes practically popped out as he spluttered. "Seconds? I thought you said there was only enough for-"

He stopped as he realized Hunith was laughing too much to listen. Halk looked slightly amused, but slightly mystified. His heart sank as he realized he was being teased. Crossing his arms, he did his best to look wounded, even as he started to see the funny side. Unfortunately, this only seemed to make Hunith laugh more.

"Why?" he moaned. "Why am I the one people _always_ tease. What is it?"

Hunith started dishing up what was left into a third bowl and handed it over to him. Halk sat back, trying to work out what was going on. "You want to know?" she asked. He nodded.

"It's the ears."

"The ears?"

"Yes." Hunith nodded solemnly. Balinor looked incredulous.

"What's wrong with my ears?"

She snorted.


End file.
